She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Five minutes until Raziel would expect her at their meeting point. She needed to move fast.
Nadi went directly to the desk. The first drawer slid open with a soft click, revealing a leather-bound ledger and a small lockbox. Picking up the ledger, she quickly opened it and scanned through it. Her heart soared and sank in the same moment. Because inside it was everything they needed.
Names. Dates. Prices. Buyers.Everything.Shipments of people coming in. And the names of the vampire lords and ladies who were procuring the fae from the bastard going out.
“Got you, youidiot,”she whispered as she slipped the ledger into her clutch. Moving toward the ventilation duct, she went as fast as she could, trying to balance speed and silence. But before she could reach it, she heard the click of the door lock.
Fuck.
Too late.
Thinking quickly, she positioned herself by a filing cabinet as if searching for something, and composed her features into a mask of efficient professionalism.
The door opened, and Braen Rosov entered.
He looked at her with a blink, voice tinged with surprise. “Elise. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Nadi adopted the slightly nervous demeanor she’d observed in the real assistant. “My apologies, sir. Mr. Zabriel requested the Falkirk files, and I knew you kept them in here.” Raziel had given her a bunch of names as backup noise, in case something happened. One always went in with backup noise for this reason. Falkirk was another vampire that Braen had double-crossed recently.
Braen studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Did he? Interesting.”
He moved to his desk, and Nadi’s heart leaped into her throat as his gaze fell upon the drawer—still slightly ajar.
“Sir,” she said quickly, hoping to distract him, “there’s also the matter of the guest in the Azure Lounge. The blonde vampire? She presented an invitation, but I don’t recognize her from the list.”
Braen’s attention shifted away from the drawer. “What invitation?”
“A Rosov seal, sir. Third-tier authorization.”
His eyes narrowed. “Show me.” Turning, he led the way.
“Sir, before we go—” she began, but was cut off as Braen suddenly whirled around, his hand closing around her throat with inhuman speed. Before she could react, she was slammed up against the wall with a merciless brutality. Spots appeared in her vision.
He was pressed up against her, his body warm against hers. “You’re not Elise,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “Who are you?” His lips were close to hers, his breath washing against her skin.
Panic rose in her chest. His grip was like iron, cutting off her air.
“Your smell is wrong,” Braen continued, his brown-and-red-flecked eyes boring into hers. “Elise uses jasmine perfume. You smell of the sea.”
She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. When he leaned in and kissed her, slowly, savoringly, his tongue slipping into her mouth, running along hers, she instinctually bit down.
She expected him to snarl or strike her. She didn’t expect him to laugh. Didn’t expect him to press his hips against her body. Didn’t expect to feel the length of his desire grinding against her.
He pulled his head back, eyes almost black with lust. “Oh,youarea fae…how delicious! Come to save your friends, have you? You must have been the one masquerading as Wilma the other day…and James the day before that…and Alex before that…I’m so glad you came back. I was wondering who you might be…my little ghost.” He relented from the pressure against her only to press closer again, groaning in bliss. His teeth were stained red with his own blood. She could taste it on her lips, coppery and bitter. “I like the smell of you, little fae. I like the taste of you even more. Promise me you’ll stay forever and ever.”
His smile was one of madness.
Pure andtotal insanity.
Fear gripped her—far harder than the hand at her throat.
“I’m going to keep you all for myself.” He rutted against her again. “Show me your real face, won’t you? If you don’t, I might have to peel that one off…” Squeezing her throat harder, he didn’t seem to care she was about to black out.
With her last ounce of strength, Nadi reached into her bag and pulled out a device that Raziel had given her in case of emergencies. And this was an emergency. A small smoke bomb. She dropped it at their feet. Dense gray smoke billowed upward, and Braen’s grip loosened just enough for her to break free.
Gasping for air, she shifted forms again—this time into a nondescript club patron—and stumbled toward the door.
“Come back! Come back, my love! Don’t go!” Braen shouted after her, hidden now by smoke. “Guards!Guards!”
